


All's Fair

by risotto



Category: Free!
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Haru is a Troll, I'm Sorry, M/M, SouHaru Week, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2712404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risotto/pseuds/risotto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What Haru wants, Haru gets. Even if he may go about it a little differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All's Fair

**Author's Note:**

> For SouHaru Week—
> 
> Day 4: ~~Touch~~ / **Fight**
> 
> Apologies in advance.

They’re in the living room working on their own personal projects—Sousuke on the couch and Haru on the floor with his spine nestled firmly against the cushions behind him—when Haru’s body decides it wants something else. 

His eyes dart over to Sousuke where he sits. He’s slouched, his thick eyebrows creased with concentration as he types away on his laptop, most likely revising the details on his latest training schedules and meal plans for his clientele. Once in a while, he’ll reach over to the end table beside him for his cola and take a hearty gulp of it; other times, he’ll scribble something down on a notepad, then type again with his pen held between his teeth. 

There’s something undeniably attractive about him when he works. Haru can’t explain it. 

The thing is, as hot as he looks and as hard as the lump in his pants becomes because of it, the _mood_ isn’t there. Haru can’t explain that, either. He just knows his own physical responses can only take him but so far. And with Sousuke too distracted by his own work and typing in that decidedly annoying way of his—hard and slow and deliberate—he can’t do anything about it now. 

Unless, of course… 

Deciding he’s had about enough of the _click-clack-click-clack_ , Haru logs into his e-mail’s messenger program and sends him a note. It’s admittedly passive-aggressive, and maybe just the slightest bit childish, but he’s far beyond the need to care about such things right now. He has needs. Selfish sexual needs. 

`**Haruka:**  
Your typing is distracting. Please stop.`

Out the corner of his eye, Haru sees that Sousuke’s stopped working altogether; he fights back a small grin of satisfaction at that. 

“Really,” Sousuke drones. 

Rather than respond in kind, Haru types some more— 

`**Haruka:**  
Yes. Really. You should just stop and go to bed with me.`

There’s a long and heavy silence between them before Sousuke’s fingers go back to work. Only this time, they’re much slower and heavier on the keys. On purpose. Just enough to set Haruka’s teeth on edge. 

Haru makes a face; not quite a frown, yet, but it’s getting there. 

`**Haruka:**  
Really?`

`**Sousuke:**  
yes r e a l l y`

The sort-of frown turns into a full-on glare. 

`**Haruka:**  
Very mature.`

`**Sousuke:**  
says the one sending pa msgs instead of directly speaking to me`

It took him forever to type that; if he took any longer, Haru would’ve snapped. 

`**Haruka:**  
I didn’t want to bother you.`

` **Sousuke:**  
and you don’t think this did…?`

Haru thinks on this a moment, then shrugs and types— 

`**Haruka:**  
Wow. That’s the fastest you’ve typed all night.`

` **Sousuke:**  
…`

`**Haruka:**  
Keep typing like that all night.`

`**Sousuke:**  
asdlkjghnml`

`**Haruka:**  
Very funny. I’m being serious.`

It’s back to the hunting-and-pecking for Sousuke. 

`**Sousuke:**  
so. am. I.`

`**Haruka:**  
…fine.`

Though the text on the screen reads ‘fine,’ the look Haru gives him says otherwise. This means war. 

Without another word, text or otherwise, Haruka gets up on the couch, his legs folded beneath him with his knees nudging comfortably against the familiar warmth of Sousuke’s, his own laptop balanced on his thighs. He makes a show of ‘casually’ stretching and rolling back his shoulders, then sets one hand on top of his head as the other cups his chin. He tilts his head quickly... 

...and _cracks_ his neck. 

Sousuke starts and lets out some sort of inhuman noise. A choked squawk is the closest Haru can come to describing it. 

Then he starts twisting his back, alleviating the pressure there until he’s rewarded with several successive pops. For a moment there, Haru’s pretty sure he can hear his boyfriend’s teeth grinding over the sound of a limber spine cracking. Impressive, but he’s not done yet. 

Then the coup de grace: his toes. 

And that’s when Sousuke’s had enough. He types, fingers moving furiously over his keys, faster than Haru’s ever seen them move. 

` **Sousuke:**  
STOP THAT RIGHT NOW`

Rather than accept his victory with a smirk or even a muffled, “hah,” Haru bites his tongue, stops his chiropractic act, and just types— 

`**Haruka:**  
If you would have just listened from the start…`

Sousuke sneers at him from his side of the couch. 

`**Sousuke:**`  
`fine, you win`  
`you always do.`  
`but you don’t play fair.`

`**Haruka:**  
That’s why I always win.`

\- 

Hours later, after they’ve spent an absurd amount of time making amends on the couch and in the shower, Haru wakes up to the sound of soft, sporadic tapping. 

Through the fuzz of sleep, he’s able to find the source: Sousuke beside him, his back propped up against the headboard of their bed, scrolling through something on his tablet. The light is faint and the device is muted, but they’re not what’s keeping Haru awake. 

Sousuke’s in just a black undershirt that lacks any sleeves and has gone through the wash one too many times, resulting in a rather loose neck that hangs low beneath his collar bones and shows off the definition of his chest. 

To Haru, it’s the most distracting thing this side of two-finger typing. 

“You should sleep,” he murmurs in _that_ voice. The one he uses when he’s seen too much and wants to starts touching instead. 

“I have to finish this proposal. It won’t be much longer.” 

Wrong answer. Annoyed, Haruka huffs out a small breath. If that’s how he wants to be, fine. “You should have finished that by now.” 

“You wouldn’t let me,” Sousuke points out. 

“Wasn’t aware you needed my permission…” 

Rather than rising to that obvious bait, Sousuke rolls his eyes and flicks his finger across the tablet screen to the next page of whatever he’s reading. 

Haruka glowers, shifts a little beneath the covers. 

And _cracks_ his toes. 

Sousuke doesn’t make a sound, but he fumbles with the tablet and nearly drops it. 

Haru turns back onto his other side, the smirk across his lips unseen. He stretches and arches his back with an overdramatic yawn and sticks his butt out into Sousuke’s side of the bed. When Sousuke sighs and grumbles, he sticks it out even more. 

“Haruka.” 

His name sounds rich and deep in Sousuke’s throat—the same way it always sounds when he’s just finished coming. That’s practically cheating, but Haru’s willing to admit Sousuke’s just following his example by making use of what he already has at his disposal. 

Not wanting to give in to the urge to squirm or reveal that such a relatively minor thing turns him on, Haru sighs, lets his voice go lethargic. “Mmn? What is it?” 

“Do you mind?” 

Haru has to press his lips into a tight line to keep from making any noise, murmurs, “Not at all—your work is very important, give my regards to _Rin_ ,” and doesn’t bother moving. 

Silence. Utter and complete silence. 

Then Sousuke’s setting the tablet down on the nightstand. “Ten minutes, then I have to finish my work.” 

Haru doesn’t lay down his weapon, so to speak, not even when Sousuke rolls him over and pins him down into the mattress, because he knows it’s not over—not yet. There’s still a high chance that Sousuke will decide he’s much more mature than this and roll back over off of him and return to work. And that just won’t do, not for Haru. 

So, Haru just looks up with the most innocent expression he can muster, and strikes. “So what am I going to do for the last nine?” 

Overkill, perhaps, but once his shorts are yanked down and his erection freed—and promptly stroked and laved with a moist tongue—Haru spreads his legs and accepts his defeat. 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't ask.


End file.
